


walking at 5 a.m. might get you mugged, but it also might get you a boyfriend?

by appllelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, very light angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appllelle/pseuds/appllelle
Summary: A certain struggling Atsumu Miya goes for an impromptu run at 5 a.m. and meets a certain stranger? uh oh.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 29





	walking at 5 a.m. might get you mugged, but it also might get you a boyfriend?

Atsumu Miya was a fucking dumbass and never learned to manage his feelings. That’s how the aforementioned idiot ended up aimlessly sprinting down the street outside of his apartment like a lunatic at five a.m. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, if he ran fast enough, he could leave behind all the dark thoughts that had been endlessly festering in his mind like disgusting, infectious mold. They’d taken over every little facet of thought. Really, what was the point of this all? Most would assume that a professional volleyball player would be more stable, but this was _Atsumu Miya_ , who did everything with either one-hundred percent of everything he had, or nothing at all, scraping by mundane tasks by the skin of his teeth. Any little bit of routine was long gone, the circadian cycle was a _myth_ at this point. Counting days by hours and dates rather keeping track of weeks and weekdays. Atsumu Miya had lost his fucking mind. At least he sure wished he had, at least then he could stop thinking. 

So in the pitch black of the asscrack of dawn, he sprinted with all he could muster, pulling in biting cold air, lungs heaving. Uncomfortable, shameful tears left tracks down his face, drying almost instantaneously, evidence to any possible passersby of a brief, overwhelming moment of vulnerability. With eyes stinging and head throbbing, with sprightly strums of guitar blaring in his left ear, he allowed his small gasps of desperation to escape him, pained and frustrated. Eventually, the familiar cramps from running too fast too long crept upon him, but maybe, his dumb theory worked. His sprint slowed to a jog, then to a brisk walk. The vengeful, ugly mold was gone, for the time being.

Deep long inhales, followed by shaky exhales. The sun was slowly crawling its way up the sky now, steady and routine as it always was. Sometimes, Atsumu _wished_ he was the fucking sun, but no, here he was at five in the morning, traveling down a road he barely knew, to a certain destination of creaking metal chains and cramped plastic seats that would whisk away any small, clingy worries still populating his head. Osamu walked with him there, once, when he had come over to drop off some stuff and make sure his brother hadn’t accidentally died while living on his own. Saccharine nostalgia never seemed to leave his mind at times like these, bitter reminders of the consistent but inevitable loneliness that soured every meal.

Unseemingly, he always gravitated to playgrounds at his lowest points. When the fight he and ‘Samu had in elementary school ripped a gap that seemed too wide for their little eight-year-old hands to ever repair. When he lost a match that he weighed all his pride and confidence on. When he had his first breakup. It was a little funny when he was a little younger, but now, in his twenties, he was just some weird creep going to a swing set at dawn. No one was around, though, thank god. The world didn’t need to see Atsumu Miya, a professional volleyball player on break, playing on swings because he had finally lost his last straw. As the bright red paint lit under twin street lights came into view, he spotted a looming stranger, half-heartedly rocking. Shady. Though he complained about how pointless four whole swings were during his previous visit, he was greatly thankful now. Fitting his adult frame into a swing meant for elementary kids as gracefully as possible, he plopped down two swings away.

“So, uh, tough night?” He tried his best with what he had, maybe if the stranger got to _know_ him, Atsumu would have a lesser chance of getting mugged before the sun even fully rose. Surprisingly, the mystery man decided to grant him a muffled reply, “Do you think anyone _sane_ would be at a children’s playground on a tiny swing, watching the sunrise?” Huh, Atsumu didn’t think about that.

“Yeah, I’ve definitely lost what was left of my marbles these past few months.” He chuckled, “When there’s so much goddamn time, and so little to keep productive with, my thoughts get real nasty, ya know?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” A pause. “Are you sure you want to unload this to some random person you met at the park at 6 a.m.?” 

“Well, are you sure _you_ want to unload this to some stranger you met at the park at six a.m.?”

“Touche.” And the conversation was over.

And so they sat, two gaudily bright swings apart, Atsumu’s swing vigorously oscillating, the freezing metal squeaking its complaints, the stranger’s barely swaying, the chains only bothering to shiver when he readjusted his mask. Atsumu always loved the breeze that gently whipped past his face, the rhythmic grating seemed to always quiet his mind, allowing him to just breathe and enjoy looking at whatever scenery was splayed out in front of him. With the sun finally peeking over the trees, orange seeping into dark blue skies and yellow dappling untrodden mulch and fallen leaves, Atsumu decided the moment was over. Feeling weightless, he jumped, heart childishly clenched for his painfully awaited landing. Colliding with the ground, wood chips roughly digging into his hands and knees, a well-worn snicker escaped Atsumu Miya. Unexpectedly, an amused chuckle followed, demanding his attention. The stranger, already risen from his end of the swing sets and looking a little taller than Atsumu, spoke again. “This was actually kind of nice, I thought you were some weirdo.”

“And I thought ya were in some crazy plot to mug me! This was _really_ nice, wanna make it a weekly thing?”

“Maybe.” A moment of hesitation. “The name’s Sakusa, by the way.”

“Oh shit, my name’s Atsumu,” a pause, “Miya.” Sakusa raised an eyebrow.

“I have a twin, being referred to as ‘Miya’s just confusin’, ya know.”

“Alright, see you next week, same time, _Miya_.” Atsumu immediately regretted telling him any extra information.

“And I’ll bring apple juice, Sakusa.” With an antagonizing wave, Sakusa headed off into the sunrise, holding the last laugh in his coat pocket. Atsumu the opposite direction, heart buzzing with a familiar but ancient thrum he hadn’t felt in months, if not years.

Atsumu already missed him.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/appllelle) if u want!


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